To All Appearances
by chelsie fan
Summary: After spending a few minutes with Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson appears at dinner a bit ... off. A birthday gift for brenna-louise.


**A/N This little one-shot is a birthday present for brenna-louise, who pointed out Mr. Carson's studding inconsistencies in a tumblr post. Sometimes the studs on his evening shirts are put through the holes from the right side, and sometimes from the left. Brenna-louise has mobilized a whole cadre of fangirl stud-checkers whose sole purpose is to notice when Mr. Carson is studded up improperly. Ultimately, we'd like to be hired to do this on-site so we can catch these glitches before filming (and so we can meet the cast), but we're not holding our breath. Brenna-louise, I wish you every good thing on your special day!**

**To All Appearances**

Mr. and Mrs. Carson sat in the servants' hall drinking tea with the rest of the staff. At a point in time just a few weeks after their wedding and a few weeks before their joint retirement, their recent marriage and impending departure were the main topics of conversation. The other servants offered kind remarks about how well marriage suited them both and asked friendly questions about their plans for retirement and their new cottage. The newlyweds graciously accepted their friends' compliments and happily chatted about their future home and how they hoped to spend their days.

At one point when everyone was nearly finished, Mrs. Carson's face took on a curious, thoughtful appearance, and she said to her husband, "Mr. Carson, may I see you for a moment?"

"Just now, Mrs. Carson? I need to go check the dining room. It's nearly dinner time. Can it wait?" asked Mr. Carson.

"No, I'm afraid it can't. It's rather urgent. Will you come with me for a moment?"

"Very well. As you wish."

Everyone at the long table watched as the two stepped into the corridor and had a hurried conversation in hushed tones. Before long, Mr. Carson's eyes grew wide and he followed his wife up the back stairs.

Mr. Bates smiled knowingly, leaned in closer to Mrs. Bates, and whispered, "Ah, young love!"

"I think it's sweet," observed Mrs. Bates with a joyful grin. "When we were first together, we certainly took every opportunity to steal just a few moments alone. Why shouldn't they do the same?"

Mr. Barrow wasted no time in voicing his disapproval. "It's all very irresponsible, I say, not to mention highly inappropriate. Sneaking off together like that in the middle of the day? To do Heaven knows what? They're setting a poor example for us younger folk. It's likely to corrupt us." The sarcasm fairly dripped from the under-butler's tongue.

Mr. Molesley knitted his brow in confusion and said to Miss Baxter, "I don't understand. Why should they need to sneak off at all? They're together all the time."

She shook her head and smiled at him fondly. "Sometimes married people like to be together … _alone_."

"But … Why? To do what? Perhaps _Heaven_ does know, but _I _certainly don't!"

"Oh, Mr. Molesley! Someday, I'll tell you all about it. But not right now."

"I'll hold you to it, Miss Baxter."

The staff finished their tea, and soon Mrs. Patmore bustled in, announcing that the upstairs dinner was ready, and asking after Mr. Carson so they could begin serving.

"I'm right here," called the butler as he rushed down the stairs, red-faced and out of breath, followed by his wife. "I'll go announce dinner. Mr. Barrow, Mr. Molesley, Andrew … You start bringing up the dishes." And with that, everything was set in motion, and the upstairs dinner was served.

Later that evening, as the servants partook of their own dinner, Mr. Molesley kept looking at Mr. Carson oddly. At a certain point, Mr. Carson noticed his scrutiny and became irritated. He snapped at the poor footman. "Can I help you, Mr. Molesley? Is something the matter?"

"Erm … No, Mr. Carson. I'm sorry. I was just … You see … I'm very sorry," stammered Mr. Molesley.

"Carry on, then," Mr. Carson commanded.

Before long, others, too, started staring at Mr. Carson, and they smiled smugly or exchanged conspiratorial glances. Eventually, Mr. Carson had had enough.

"Will someone kindly tell me what in blazes is going on here?" he demanded.

Mr. Molesley gathered the courage to speak up, albeit meekly. "Mr. Carson," he said, "I've been sitting here, looking at you, and thinking something's not quite right. But I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I've only just now figured it out."

"Oh?" huffed Mr. Carson peevishly. "And what, exactly, is it that's 'not quite right'?"

"Well, it's the studs in your shirt. They're done up from the wrong side," Mr. Molesley informed him. "It's almost as if you've not done them up yourself, as if you've had help dressing."

Mr. Carson looked down at his chest, horror evident in his every feature. Before he could say anything, Mrs. Carson smoothly stepped in.

"Why, Mr. Molesley, you're absolutely right! You see, I noticed an ink smudge on Mr. Carson's shirt earlier and pointed it out to him. He went up to our room to change it. Since he was in a hurry to get back downstairs in time to serve dinner, I tried to help him with his studs, while he tied his tie. I'm afraid I know very little about men's clothing, as you can plainly see. I imagine I'd make rather a sorry valet." The housekeeper gave a self-deprecating chuckle.

Her explanation seemed to satisfy the naïve footman, but everyone else still snickered covertly. Miss Baxter tactfully steered the conversation away from smudges, studs, and shirts.

Later that night, in their bedroom, Mrs. Carson stood in front of Mr. Carson's shirt, which was hanging on the back of their door, and worked at it with a small brush and a concoction which was meant to remove the stain.

"Well, that was just mortifying," moaned Mr. Carson as he sat on the edge of their bed. He'd already removed his tailcoat and waistcoat and was now untying his bow tie.

"_What_ was mortifying?" she asked.

"You must be joking!" he cried. "Now everyone thinks … Well, they assume … I mean …"

She laughed, put the brush and bowl down on the bureau, and walked over to stand in front of her husband. "You mean that everyone thinks that the housekeeper finds her butler so attractive that she lured him upstairs and ravished him in the middle of the day?"

"Elsie!" He was not amused.

"Oh, Charles! We're married! There's nothing scandalous about my helping you put your shirt on," she reasoned.

"Well … When you say it that way, it doesn't sound so bad. I suppose you might be right." Now calmed somewhat, he grasped her hand and pulled her down to sit on the bed next to him.

"Now, if I were to help you take your shirt _off_ … " she purred seductively in his ear, " … that would be another matter entirely, and quite indecent, indeed!" And she ran her hands over his chest and began to remove the troublesome, wrongly-inserted studs.


End file.
